


The Scars Remind Us

by natascha_ronin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Captain Swan - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Loss, Outlaw Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8293033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natascha_ronin/pseuds/natascha_ronin
Summary: Emma and Killian have been dating for a few months, but her secrets are keeping her from taking the next step. Angst/Hurt/Comfort





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tnlph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tnlph/gifts).



It starts with a fight.

It’s not the first time they’ve fought in the three months they’ve been dating, or in the two years they’ve known each other. It’s just the first time Emma has been called out for what she knows is childish behavior.

“I don’t want to stay the night.” She’s pacing around his apartment that afternoon, panic gripping her chest.

“This weekend? Why not?” Killian is standing at the bar in his kitchen, a towel slung over his shoulder. He’s carefully scrubbing out the cast iron skillet he used to make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

“I just don’t want to stay in a house with a month-old baby who’s probably going to cry half the night in the room next door.” According to Mary Margaret, Leo isn’t a difficult baby, but Killian probably doesn’t know that.

He lets out a heavy sigh and pours more salt into the pan, rubbing it around meticulously. “We can take earplugs and I often sleep with a white noise machine, I could bring that too.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he rinses it out in the sink, pulling the towel off of his shoulder to dry it off.

She scoffs. “Oh, yeah, that sounds romantic.”

“It’s a christening, love, not a romantic getaway.” He pours olive oil into the pan and rolls it around, muscles in his forearm working. She loves watching him cook. He’s surprisingly domestic, and normally it would make her sigh and blush a little. Right now, though, she’s frustrated.

“Could you just stop that for a second?” Emma grips the back of a barstool and faces him. “I don’t want to –”

“What?” Killian snaps his head up, blue eyes wide and his jaw set. “You don’t want to spend the night with me? Isn’t that what this is about?” The look on his face is one she’s seen a few times over the last few weeks before he masks it: resigned, hurt.

Emma bites her lip and looks away. 

When her oldest friends, the Nolans, invited Emma and Killian to their new home in a suburb north of Boston, naturally the invitation was for an overnight stay. Mass would be at ten a.m. the following day, with lunch afterward, it just made sense.

That’s not what’s stopping her. 

It’s the implication that they’ll share a room. She and Killian have been together for three months. Everyone just assumes they’re a package deal.

Except for the fact that they haven’t _sealed the deal._

Sure, Emma has fallen asleep on Killian’s couch a few times while watching movies late at night. And a few months ago they had all camped out to hike Mount Monadnock. But, they’ve never slept together. They haven’t actually gotten around to having sex yet.

It isn’t that she doesn’t want to. She definitely does. She’d have to be crazy not to want what hides beneath those low-slung jogging pants and snug tee shirt he’s currently sporting. Hell, she saw him in compression shorts this spring during the Boston Marathon and nearly tripped over the sign she was carrying to cheer him and Ruby on.

It’s her. It’s her and her secret she’s scared to death of exposing.

Naturally, she doesn’t assume that sex will happen in the Nolans’ three bedroom house. They’ll be just down the hall from a newborn and his parents, in a guest bedroom with floral bedding. Like she said, it’s hardly _romantic._ But, it’s intimate, and there’s every possibility that it will lead to nights that don’t involve another family, in his apartment or her studio. It’s the natural progression of a normal relationship, and she’s anything but normal.

So, she does what she does best. She pushes him away.

“We’re not having this discussion,” Emma bites out as she grabs her keys and jacket, slipping on her flats by the door. “I’ll just drive up to David and Mary Margaret’s on Sunday morning. You can go up the day before if you want to.” It’s like she can feel her walls slamming down, iron barriers loud in the space between him and her back.

“Emma -” Killian is rounding the corner to where she’s standing with her hand on the doorknob. He’s careful to reach out to her with his right hand, keeping his prosthetic away from her.

She can tell that he’s still not comfortable touching her with an appendage that isn’t flesh and bone. For a split second, she’s sympathetic and thinks that if they can let their walls down and show each other their scars, they might be able to get past this and really love one another. They’ve all but said the words. She knows she loves him, that he loves her. Maybe –

But then she thinks of the secret hovering over them, a secret she should have told him by now, and decides it’s just too damn much right now. She has no way of knowing how Killian will react, and she’s too far into fight-or-flight to think clearly. 

“I have to go.” Her apology is all she can give him right now. “I’m sorry.”

He backs up and looks down and away, dropping his hand to his side. “What aren’t you telling me, Swan? Is it –?” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ve run through a thousand scenarios in my head, and I won’t push, but whatever it is, you can tell me, love.” He looks back up at her and his eyes search her face.

Part of her knows she can tell him, knows he will still love her and that part is growing every day. But fear still grips her and suffocates her like a wool blanket. Her walls are all she’s had for so long, and she’s scared that he’ll love her differently than he does now. She’s scared to death that he’ll find her wanting somehow and it will change them, change him against his will. She doesn’t want to hurt either of them, but she knows it’s unavoidable the moment they take that next step. The best she can do is delay it.

“I can’t right now.”

Killian licks his lips and nods sharply, face withdrawn. “I’ll take the train up to my sister’s house this weekend, ride over with her on Sunday.” 

“You won’t --” Her eyes are pleading. Regina might only be his half-sister, and a bit of a hard-ass, but at the end of the day they’re family. A family she wants to be a part of if she can get her act together and start acting like a damn adult. 

He shakes his head. “I won’t say anything.” He clenches his jaw. 

Emma knows she’s hurting him, knows this isn’t right and shame eats at her. She opens the door and slips out into the hallway.

______

Emma pulls up to the church, checking her reflection in the mirror before she adjusts her dress. She isn’t normally a clothes horse, but the maroon satin is a nice change from her normal attire, even if the chilly wind whips through the dress and the leaves in the churchyard stick to her heels.

Ruby waves to her from where the crowd is standing outside. She can see the back of Killian’s head, a new haircut giving him a debonair look without his locks curling over the collar of a navy suit jacket. He turns around and gives her a tight smile, but extends his arm out as she tucks herself into his side.

Mary Margaret leans forward to give her a kiss on the cheek, little Leo sleeping peacefully in her arms as she bobs back and forth. He’s wearing a snow white christening gown and a cap on his head. David walks over to them along with Killian’s sister, Regina, and her husband, Robin.

“Glad you could make it, we were worried work would keep you away, what with you having to stay in the city last night.” Emma feels a tightness in her chest at having lied to her friends, but David pulls her into a hug and pats the back of her head and the tension is gone. They all look a little out of place in Sunday attire, with the exception of Regina, who Emma has never seen in anything less than business casual.

“Where’s Roland?” Emma looks down to Robin’s side, he normally brings his son everywhere with him.

“He’s with my friend John today.” Robin replied. “He’s just getting over a cold, didn’t want him to get the baby sick.”

Killian nods. “We’ll have to make up for the hockey game we missed last week.”

Emma turns to look at him, curious. “Since when do you go to sporting events, professor?”

He smirks. “Since the young lad took an interest in the team the last time he and Robin visited me at work. The Boston Terriers are a good team, aye mate?” He turns to Robin.

“Not bad for a college team. You should join us, Emma.” He puts his arm around Regina. “Maybe Regina would come to a match if she could have some company.”

Regina smiles up at him. “Watching grown men slap an oreo around on ice for an hour isn’t my idea of a fun time.” She snorts out a laugh and gives Emma an apologetic look.

“I’m up for a game. It’s not like I can afford Bruins tickets, anyway.” Emma shrugs.

David leans over and taps Regina and Robin on the shoulder. “I think it’s time to go inside. Ready, godparents?”

They all make their way into the building. She has a slight twinge of jealousy over Regina and Robin being Leo’s godparents, but she’s not Catholic – she’s barely even been to church. The whole ceremony looks a little strange to her: Mary Margaret, David, Regina, and Robin crowd around a small stand while the priest asks questions and they answer, he crosses and baptizes Leo (Is there water involved? She can’t really see). They sing and they say the liturgy, and she watches Killian out of the corner of her eye for guidance. He was raised in the Catholic church, so he likely knows more about what’s going on than she does.

It’s oddly intimate, sharing this ritual with him; being a part of a family and hearing his deep timbre recite the prayer of intercession. She stands next to him and stammers over words, kneeling at the appropriate times, soaking in the enormity of something so normal as a couple.

After, they pose for pictures together, and Mary Margaret deposits Leo into her arms. Emma looks down at him nestled against her, his arm up by his neck, his mouth slightly open while he sleeps. She’s only held him once, briefly, in the hospital at David’s insistence, but this is different. The photographer snaps away. The sounds of everyone talking and laughing become dim, and she’s overcome by a longing only she knows about.

She looks up at Killian standing next to her, his ring-covered hand over hers holding the baby, and it hits her that he is the first infant she’s ever held. She wonders what it would have been like to have held her own son, even if it was just for a few minutes. Would it have changed her mind? She’s twenty-eight years old, and her son is out there, somewhere, a ten-year-old boy. She doesn’t even know his name.

She can feel the pressure behind her eyes, tears starting to sting as her chin wobbles uncontrollably. She sniffs.

“Emma, are you alright?” Killian leans down.

She nods, swallowing heavily, and walks over to David, handing Leo to him as gently as she can before she walks briskly to the nearest restroom. Sobs break through as she heaves herself through the door, sunlight breaking through the old windows at the top of the wall. She locks the door of the nearest stall and sits on the toilet with her face in her hands, and she weeps.

______

Ruby and Mary Margaret walk in a few minutes later.

“Emma, is everything okay?” Mary Margaret’s feet appear under the door. 

“Yeah, just a minute.” Emma sniffs and takes a few deep breaths before walking outl.

“Oh, honey.” Ruby’s face crumples as she crushes Emma to her.

They stand there and hold her as she tells them everything. She tells them about being seventeen and falling in love with a guy who used her and left her, who let her go to jail for his crime. She tells them about the baby she couldn’t keep but so desperately loved. She tells them how she still feels the loss and ache of what could have been when she looks at her pregnancy-altered body in the mirror.

They’re all crying by the time she finishes.

Mary Margaret pulls a packet of tissues from her purse. Emma plucks a few of them out and blows her nose, wiping at what is surely a black mess under her eyes. 

“Oh, Emma, I am so sorry,” Mary Margaret sobs, “If I had known you carried this around for so many years, I would have been here for you.”

Ruby sniffles. “Me, too.”

They walk out of the restroom holding hands. The rest of the family is waiting down the hall, but Killian is standing on the opposite wall raking his hand through his hair. He looks up at her and their eyes meet. His face is stricken, but he keeps his distance from her. 

Everyone makes their way to the parking lot, Regina’s face inscrutable as she keeps glancing between Emma and Killian. No doubt she’s curious about why her brother and his girlfriend are five feet apart and her face looks like hell. Ruby stands between her and Regina and offers to ride back to the Nolans’ with Emma.

As soon as they get in the car, she turns to Emma.

“You haven’t told him yet, have you?”

Emma glances over and shakes her head, but can’t read the look on Ruby’s face. Ruby flips down the sun visor and plays with the mirror, swiping under her eyes with her fingers and rubbing her lips together. She pulls lipstick out of her purse and starts to apply it.

“I’m not gonna tell you what you should do, but if it was me, I’d want to know.” She smacks her lips, twists the tube back down and pops the lid back on. She fixes Emma with a grave look. “Especially if I was as in love with you as that man is.”

Emma nods, swallowing. “That’s part of the problem – that’s the problem.” Her voice is hoarse and she clears her throat. “Killian has never – we’ve never had sex, so he – the pregnancy really took its toll on my body. I have stretch marks on my stomach and my boobs. My nipples are bigger now.”

“I have them on my butt.” Ruby snickers. “My girlfriend has them on her boobs and she was never pregnant. What’s the big deal?”

Emma sighs. “It’s not that, it’s just that if he sees them, he’ll probably ask about them – most guys do – and then there’ll be a whole conversation, and I just –“

“You think he won’t love you the same if he knows.”

They pull into Mary Margaret and David’s driveway. Emma turns to Ruby and grimaces. “Yeah. No.” She shakes her head and pulls up the parking brake. “I don’t know.”

“I think you’re afraid to love him and let him love you with your scars.” She pokes Emma in the arm. “You gotta swing or get off of home plate, sister.”

Emma laughs, and watches in the rearview mirror as Killian gets out of his sister’s Mercedes. If anyone is worth baring her soul to, it’s him.

______

Lunch is a happy affair, despite Emma’s mood. Everyone comes together, working to get sterno cups lit under catered dishes, and the wine poured. Killian takes off his suit jacket and tie and unearths a box of Mike’s cannolis. Gifts are given to the baby who blinks in and out of consciousness until Mary Margaret announces that both her and Leo need a nap and they disappear upstairs.

David takes the opportunity to corral the guys outside to show off the new deck, and Emma, Ruby, and Regina start the task of cleaning up the kitchen.

“I should’ve brought my lasagna over,” Regina says as she wraps the leftovers in foil, “David loves it.”

Ruby smiles and moans. “Yes, you should’ve. Your lasagna is fit for a king.”

“It was nice of you and Killian to bring up cannolis from the North End.” Regina smiles at Emma. “I never get down there these days since we moved to Wakefield.”

“Oh, I didn’t –“ Emma shakes her head.

But Ruby steps in, “Yeah, how is lawyer life going over there? Still happy to give up life at the DA’s office?”

Regina opens her mouth to say something, but turns to Ruby instead and smiles. “Um, it’s going well. I certainly like the money in private practice better than the public sector.” She smiles. “We’ve enrolled Roland in Odyssey.”

Emma listens as they talk about life and their careers and private versus public school. She looks over to the sliding-glass door in time to see Killian walk quickly back inside and jog upstairs.

“How’s work going, Emma?” Regina pulls her back into the conversation.

She turns back to them, plastering on a smile. “It’s good.”

“How’s my little brother treating you?” She gives Emma an indulgent smile.

Emma blushes. “He’s great.”

“We should really get together soon and do a double date.”

“I’d like that.” And she would. She’d love to get to know Regina and Robin better, to spend more time with Killian’s family.

 

She steels her nerves and excuses herself to walk upstairs. The bathroom door is open, so she walks down the hallway to look for him, stopping short at the doorway to the nursery.

Killian is standing in the middle of the room, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, oblivious to her, but she can see his face. Leo’s tuft of dark hair bobs on his shoulder. He’s humming and rocking from side to side, gently rubbing his hand over the baby’s back. Leo is squirming a little, fussing. 

The look on Killian’s face is one of tenderness and awe. It’s a look she’s never seen on him before. If she’s ever wondered what he’d look like as a father, this is as close as she can imagine. It makes her heart break just a little to see him so gentle with a small baby. She feels an ache begin in her chest for something she never knew she wanted before. She wants this with Killian. She can see a future here, a happy one, if only she can get over herself enough to let him love her.

He starts to sing to the baby in his arms:

_“Leo…Leo, my handsome little king._  
_You’ll slay the dragon, climb the tower,_  
_Find the princess, and you’ll wed._  
_You’ll rule your kingdom on a throne_  
_In a castle by the sea.”_

It’s a nonsensical verse, one she’s sure Killian made up in the moment. Leo squirms and cries a little. Emma watches, transfixed by them. He may not be perfect with children, but he’s far gentler with this baby than he is with his students, or anyone else she’s ever seen him with. It does something to her heart to see such a cherished moment. Killian has a father’s touch, if she’s ever seen one.

“Have you got a bit of wind, lad?” He pats the baby’s back with a firm hand, and starts as Leo turns his head and spits up down the sleeve of his shirt.

Emma gasps at the mess just as Killian looks up. It’s a lot of fluid from such a tiny thing. She spies a receiving blanket on the edge of the changing table and he looks up at her as she walks over to clean his arm.

“Hi,” he says softly, the look of wonder replaced by something sad and lost. “I came upstairs to use the restroom, and overheard the little prince having a cry.”

He’s cradling him now with his left arm, his prosthesis tucked under the baby’s legs while he secures him with his hand. Leo is sucking on his own fist.

“Is this the first time you’ve ever held a baby?”

“Oh, no, I’ve held a few. Roland was a toddler when I met him.” He smiles down at Leo, still swaying back and forth with him.

Of course. Of course he’s held babies. He’s never had a reason to be afraid of holding them. He’s never worried that people would see him as a fraud - or something worse still - when something so small was cradled in his arms.

“Can I?” Emma holds out her arms, not really sure if she’s ready for what she’s asking.

Killian doesn’t miss a beat, his smile innocent and unassuming. “Of course, love.”

She positions her arms under his and he slides them out as Leo shifts. She pulls him closer to her while Killian runs his hand over the baby’s downy head.

“He has a lot of hair.” Emma can hear the tears in her voice. “He’s so beautiful.”

Killian is looking at her, not the baby, when he says, “Yes. Quite beautiful.”

She sniffles, “Just like his mommy.”

“He has his father’s chin.”

And just like that, she’s undone. Holding this baby boy, being with this man, standing in a house that isn’t their own, she can imagine it.

A little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, Killian as a father -- as a _husband._ She sees love there, in a place where they can mend, with white picket fences and fairytale songs. So tangible she can reach in and pluck the daydream from her scarred, battered heart. 

And she can feel it. It makes her brave. She can feel it before it bursts out of her chest.

“I love you, Killian.”

He hesitates before he wraps his hand around the back of her head, pulling her as close as he can with the baby between them.

“I love you, too,” His voice comes out in a harsh whisper, a sob escaping his chest before he inhales a shaky breath. “No matter what.”

______

She offers to give him a ride back to the city.

It’s quiet in the car, the radio filling the space between them.

It isn’t even a question about whether she’ll come up when she pulls the car into the parking garage. She follows him inside the building and into the elevator, and takes his prosthesis in her hand. He looks down to where she’s gripping the metal prongs that make up his left hand.

He tosses his keys in the bowl by the entryway.

“Wine?”

“Yeah,” She near-whispers. “Sounds good.”

They sit on the couch, the city lit like fireflies through floor-to-ceiling windows. She sips at a sweet red.

“Emma,” Killian turns toward her, “I can tell that your heart is uneasy. I’ve given you space these last few days. Please tell me what’s going on.”

Emma licks her lips and looks over to him. “You know about how I ran away from the foster care system when I was sixteen.” It’s not a question, just a jumping off point.

Killian is silent, nodding, blue eyes giving nothing away.

She continues, looking back down at her wine glass. “I met a guy when I was seventeen, Neal. We ran together for a few months, robbing convenience stores, sneaking into seedy motels. I got caught – he didn’t. I spent eleven months in a juvenile detention center in Arizona. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks into my incarceration.”

Killian inhales sharply, but she doesn’t look up at his face, scared that if she does, she won’t finish what she has to say. “I gave birth on August fifteenth, ten years ago, to a six-pound-nine-ounce boy. I was seven-and-a-half months into an eleven month sentence. I was shackled to the bed.”

She can hear his ragged breathing, but he’s still, sitting next to her. She can hear the hum of the furnace somewhere in Killian’s apartment, the rush of traffic below them, and she takes another sip of her wine to brace herself for what she says next: “I heard him crying and I looked away. I never held him. I gave him up for adoption.”

She looks over to him after a few seconds, eyes meeting his, challenging him and begging him in the same steady glance.

Killian is stricken, his face ashen. His lips are parted, taking in shallow breaths. His eyes are haunted. He doesn’t break eye contact as he sets his wine glass down on the coffee table. He reaches out to her, a question in his eyes, and she nods minutely. His arms come around her and he gathers her up, scooting closer to her. The only sounds between them are their sobs and sighs. He strokes his hand through her hair, pressing kisses to her forehead while she presses her face closer to him, breathing him in.

“Oh, Emma. I’m so sorry,” he breathes out into her hair. “I am so very sorry, darling.”

She has no idea how long they sit there, how long they cry together in the comfort of each other’s arms: her for catharsis and him for her loss.

______

When Emma wakes sometime in the middle of the night, she’s cognizant of two things: she’s in Killian’s bed and his arm is wrapped around her. She’s staring at his left wrist draped over her side. He likely removed his prosthesis to sleep, but this is the first time she’s seen his arm without it. It’s hard to tell in the dim light coming from the windows, but a patchwork of smooth tissue mars the blunted end of his wrist. She knows he lost his hand in 2009 while deployed in Afghanistan, but she’s never pressed him for any other information. She traces the length of his arm with her fingers, following a network of smaller scars up to his elbow.

“Grenade.” Killian stirs behind her. 

Emma turns around, seeking out his face in the shadow.

He takes a deep breath. “An insurgent threw it at our humvee.” He doesn’t pull his arm away, just looks at it in the dim light. “They didn’t time them, just pulled the pin and threw. He was in oncoming traffic. I had enough time to toss it away, just not far enough.” He lets out a dry chuckle. 

She reaches up to trace a few scars on his face. “These, too?”

He nods. “Mm-hmm. Fragments.”

“I have a scar, too.” 

“I know.” His breathing cuts through the quiet room. He pulls his arm down to brush across her stomach. “Did they cut you?”

“Not there.” She raises her eyebrows in suggestion. 

Killian understands instantly, and his eyes are wide open. “Ouch.”

Emma can’t help but laugh. “I had good drugs.”

It’s contagious. He laughs back. “Me, too.”

They catch their breath and the mood is considerably lighter. She’s glad for it, even if it means she has less dignity than before. 

“Hi,” she smiles.

He smiles back. “Hi.”

She has no idea what time it is, probably early morning, but she knows she isn’t going back to sleep now. So, she shifts closer to him to plant a few kisses along his cheek, trailing them to his lips. She’s careful of morning breath and it seems so is he because his mouth is closed at first, until desire overrides his need for decorum and he begins to kiss her in earnest.

It’s light enough in the room that she sees he’s mesmerized as they undress each other and she straddles him. Her bare breasts brush against his chest hair as he pulls her down over him, and she pulls him inside of her. He skims his fingers lightly over the silver lines on her stomach, eyes reverent as he grasps the same lines on her breasts with teeth and tongue. Their first coming together is so simple that she wonders why she was ever scared to begin with.

They collapse in a sweaty slide of skin over skin just in time to watch the sun rise to the east. It’s Monday: work waits for both of them. Killian’s at the college while she’ll probably be sitting in a car for fourteen hours, investigating someone for insurance fraud. But for now, there’s this moment of silence and knowing that no matter what comes later, they’ll share it together. Her eyes close against Killian’s steady breathing, cheek nuzzling against his dusting of chest hair. She thinks about the softness of a baby’s hair on his shoulder, and the promise of a future together.

A future where she’s all in.

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I wrote for tnlph. This came out way more angsty than I originally intended. All flubs are mine. Many many thanks to my beautiful beta katie-dub for making this something readable. You are brilliant. Muah.


End file.
